


Missing Puzzle Pieces

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Holding [9]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Soulmates, Workplace Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Brad once heard someone say that he and Patrice are two of the smartest players in the NHL. But sometimes, he feels pretty fucking stupid.This is one of those times.





	Missing Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> NBCSN sucks and I wish we never had to go a game without Jack and Brick, but they did get one thing right the other day when they said Bergy and Marchy are two of the smartest players in the NHL.

It really kind of pisses Brad off that so many people in the course of his life said “when you meet her, you’ll know.”

Because A) systemic homophobia, B) it means he never knew what to expect, and C) Brad’s also kind of an idiot sometimes and it took him way too long to figure this out. Fucking seriously, the heteronormativity by itself is astounding. Everyone in his family or at school talking about how someday he’ll meet the right girl, she’ll be his soulmate, he’ll be happy forever. Oh, yeah, and somehow he’d just _know_ it was her, too. Because that’s not fucking vague.

Soul marks can appear on any part of someone’s body. So, most of the time, people just assume his is somewhere under his clothes. It’s not - his is in his brain. It’s not something he’s heard a lot about, either, because most people’s marks are pretty obvious so you just have to look at someone’s arm or hand or cheek to know if they’re meant for you.

That’s not how it is for Brad. His dreams aren’t his own, he knows they’re not his because they never have been. As a little boy, it was another home, another school, the faces of people he didn’t know that showed up behind his sleeping eyelids. As he got older, they made even less sense, and when he explained them to his parents they reasoned that whoever he was dreaming about is a little older than him, so things would start making sense in a few years. As an adult, whoever it was dreamed about hockey. A lot. Specifically, Bruins hockey. For years, Brad just kind of assumed that whoever it is must be a die-hard fan or something.

And don’t get him fucking started on the whole “you’ll just know” thing. Because no, he didn’t “just know,” otherwise big crazy headlines would’ve been made in 2009 when he was pulled back and forth between the NHL and the AHL until the NHL decided he was worth keeping around. Because when you’re put on a line and connect instantly and intensely with one of your team mates on that line, that’s a pretty good indicator, right? Well, maybe… if you haven’t been conditioned since birth to be looking for someone with two X-chromosomes.

Brad once heard someone say that he and Patrice are two of the smartest players in the NHL. But sometimes, he feels pretty fucking stupid.

This is one of those times.

Because he’s on his laptop, reading about how Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin have admitted to the press that they’ve been together for years. How the hell they managed to keep that secret, Brad can’t begin to guess, but it also puts more details into perspective than he’s comfortable admitting to. On the surface, sure, he’s happy that Sid’s happy, or whatever. Digging deeper, and Brad’s fucking disappointed in himself that he couldn’t figure this out sooner - except it’s not completely his fault, right?

Because even after someone has met/acknowledged their soulmate, they’re able to be attracted to other people. Sometimes this means a person will reject their soulmate for “freedom of choice” or some shit. Same-sex soulmates aren’t super common, either; maybe one in eight people falls into that category. So, it’s seen as an abnormal thing, or unnatural by religious extremists. With all that going on (without even getting into the complicated topics of trans and NB people), idiots always default to teaching their children “you’re heterosexual! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!”

Today has upended all of this brainwashing for Brad, and not just because of Sid and Geno. Last night he got to witness a sex dream about himself, which… yeah, it’s happened before, but dreams are always weird and random so a dream can be a sex dream without even having any actual sex in it. For once, though, this sex dream _did_ have sex, like actual sex. And the person doing the dreaming had a dick. That’s pretty hard for Brad to ignore.

He calls his mother.

“Mom, how did you know dad was your soulmate?” he asks once pleasantries are out of the way. “Please don’t say you ‘just knew,’ either. I gotta know.”

“Well, I understood him better than anyone else. We just… felt close to each other, closer than we did with friends who knew us for years. If we were going to do something together, we didn’t have to talk about it most of the time, because we just knew where the other one was and what we had to do.” She pauses. “Have you met someone? What’s her name?”

Brad rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been overlooking someone.”

“Who?”

“I think…” He takes a breath. “I think it might be Pat.”

“Oh.” The silence lasts long enough to make Brad nervous, but then she continues. “That’s about what we expected.”

“What? Then… then why did you ask if I met someone?” Brad demands, exasperated. “And what do you mean, ‘expected?’”

“Honey, you haven’t shut up about him since you were a rookie.” He can hear how she’s trying not to laugh, and that just makes him more mad. “And you said the dreams have you in them a lot, which means it’s someone who already knows you.”

“Oh…” Brad’s anger deflates, because he’s fully realizing what this actually means: Patrice has sex dreams about him. _Patrice is his soulmate._ Fuck. “Um, thanks for clearing this all up for me, but-”

“Yes, go talk to him,” she chuckles from the other end. “I love you, Bradley.”

“Love you too, mom. Bye.” He hesitates for a second - _what if he’s wrong?_ \- before dialing his friend’s number.

Two rings. “What’s up?”

“Pat, can we… talk?”

“Uh, we are talking?”

“No, like. In person. Face-to-face and shit.”

“Sure, do you want to come over?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Brad agrees.

“Okay. My place is kind of a mess, but… wait, did something happen?”

“No, not really. I just really gotta talk to you.”

“Okay, then… see you in a few.”

Brad drives over to Patrice’s apartment, and he’s glad there’s no practice until tomorrow afternoon because it gives them plenty of time to hash this out. He’s a little nervous - Patrice is smarter than him. Wouldn’t he have said something to Brad by now?

“Are you sure nothing happened?” Patrice demands as he opens the door.

“Hello to you too,” Brad snorts. He’s reaching into his pocket for his phone as he comes in. “No, Pat, nothing happened.”

“Then why do you look so scared?”

“Did you see this already?” Brad asks instead of answering. He pulls up the story about the two Penguins and holds out his phone. “They kept it secret until now.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw it. I’m happy for Sid… what’s this about, Brad?”

He puts his phone away and decides not to waste time. “Do you dream about me?”

“What?” Patrice looks baffled.

“You heard me.” Brad watches his friend turn pink. “Yeah, I thought so…”

“How do you know that?” his friend wonders, making a face. “Are you… Brad, come on, what _is_ this?”

“What’s your soul mark, Pat?”

Now, Patrice looks at his feet. Anxiety is threaded through his entire body. “I… okay.” He sighs quietly. “You’re excited and kind of upset, and you’re scared about something, right? That’s what it is. I can feel how you’re feeling.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Brad explains. “I just… why the hell didn’t you say something? You just let me go all these years not knowing.”

“Because I thought…” Patrice takes a deep breath. “I read a memoir when I was in school written by a woman whose soul mark didn’t match. There was someone who was her soulmate, but she wasn’t _his_ soulmate, and… I don’t really remember what happened in the book, but the idea stuck with me after I read it. That sometimes people’s souls don’t actually match. And… you’re so loud and so open and so honest about everything all the time. So I felt like if I was yours, you wouldn’t be able to hide it from me, and you probably wouldn’t even try. But it’s been ten years and you didn’t say anything until now. So I guess we don’t match… you’re mine, but I’m not yours.”

Patrice looks like he’s about to cry with this admission. Brad thinks fast.

“Didn’t you ever figure out that I’m just kind of a dumbass?” he points out. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t figure it out until now, and my mom had to spell shit out for me before I did.” He paraphrases everything she’d told him in that conversation earlier. “Doesn’t that sound like how we are? And how do you think I know about what your dreams are, anyway? I’ve never had a single fucking dream that belongs to me, not even when I was a kid. I always see yours when I’m sleeping.”

There’s almost a full minute of silence before either of them speaks again. Patrice smiles a little: “Well then maybe we’re both just dumbasses, huh?” They both laugh way too hard. “So you always see my dreams?”

“Yeah. It’s confusing to watch myself getting boned,” Brad grins, just to make him blush.

And Patrice does blush - he looks like a Red Wings home jersey. It’s adorable.

“Uh, well, I don’t really have control over my dreams,” he stammers.

“Relax, man. You’re gorgeous and I’d _totally_ let you fuck me.”

That just makes it worse, which is exactly what Brad was going for. Besides, deliberate sexual tension is head and shoulders above the mental breakdown Patrice was clearly trying not to have a couple minutes ago. Brad wonders if hearing it out loud is what’s making him flush or if it’s because he can feel that Brad actually means it… maybe both?

“I don’t really know what I should say to that,” Patrice tells him at last.

Brad shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to… you could just kiss me instead.”

Why Patrice looks startled at the offer, Brad has no idea, but at least he’s not just standing there - he reaches for Brad’s hands first, pulling gently. Brad allows himself to be led over so that Patrice can kiss him. Warmth spreads through him from the points where they’re touching, filling in under his skin, and he thinks he remembers someone saying something about this when he was a kid: _When you acknowledge your soulmate, it changes things. It hurts being too far apart from each other, but when you’re close by, there’s no better feeling._ Whoever said that was right, because this is fucking incredible.

And it does change things, because the way Patrice described his soulmark is now happening for Brad. He can feel the overwhelming shock, the joy, the I-don’t-believe-this-is-really-happening, everything. It’s new and unexpected, but Brad drinks it in, wanting to get everything Patrice is experiencing right now.

They pull each other closer, the kiss becomes more involved. People joke about how short Brad is (and Brad jokes about it too) but there’s actually only a four inch difference in height between them, which isn’t really that bad. The most surprising thing for Brad is that there’s so much love. Sure, he wasn’t aware that Patrice loves him this way, but until about thirty minutes ago Brad didn’t even know how fucking gone he is for this guy. He’s made jokes about it before and never realized he actually meant it.

Chest to chest and starting to gasp for breath against each other’s mouths, Brad would be totally fine letting things get out of hand (because he’s an impulsive dumbass) except that there’s threads of apprehension sneaking up on him and he knows they’re not his. It makes Brad carefully pull back for a look and Patrice’s hesitance is practically painted across his face.

“You okay, Pat?”

“Yeah, just wasn’t expecting this,” Patrice admits, still breathing hard.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, concerned.

“I… no, I don’t, but we should really talk about - this.” Patrice waves a hand between them. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good, but thanks.” They sit in the living room, Patrice in a corner chair and Brad sprawled across the couch. “So what needs talking about?”

“Well, for one, did you actually read the articles or just the headlines? Because Sid and Geno have been under a wave of backlash because of it,” Patrice points out, very uncomfortably. “It’ll probably be the same thing for us when we put this out in the open, too. And we’re four days away from the beginning of the playoffs, so if we tell people, it could upset team dynamics, which hurts everyone and not just us. Brad… I’ve wanted this for so long that sometimes I can’t remember how to want anything else, and I’m not saying we should hide forever, but… maybe just wait a little. See how the playoffs go.”

Brad sighs quietly and nods, accepting defeat. Patrice is right - Patrice is always right - and it’s terrible how none of this occurred to him. “Okay. I wasn’t thinking, Pat, I’m sorry.”

In response, Brad gets concern and tenderness as Patrice changes his mind about the seating arrangement; he comes over to the couch as well, pulling Brad into his arms and kissing the top of his head. “Don’t feel bad, _ange._ You never think about anything first, and I got used to it a long time ago.”

Brad chuckles. “Pet names already?”

“Do you not like it?”

“I love it. Keep doing it until the day we die.” He settles in against Patrice. “Maybe that’s why we match. You’ve got all the planning and shit, and I get to actually be fun.”

Patrice swats his upper arm lovingly. “I have plenty of fun. Sometime soon you’ll even get to find that out.”

“But not right now, huh?”

“No. For one I’m too nervous.”

“That can’t just be it…” Brad scoffs.

“Alright, for two, we have practice tomorrow, and if I get you all achy first people will notice.”

Brad laughs. “What, wouldn’t you like that? Seeing me wince every time I move a certain way because I can still feel everything you did to me?”

Patrice tenses up and there’s a wave of lust. “Christ, Brad…”

“Yeah, you’d definitely like that,” he snickers. Then he tilts his head back to make eye contact. “It’s okay, Pat. I won’t push it if it’s not something you want yet.”

Patrice kisses him, light and brief but still so full of love. “Thank you.”

They just lay on the couch for awhile, not saying anything because right now they don’t really need to. Brad wonders - since he knows how Patrice is feeling, does that mean they’ll share dreams, too? It seems likely. Their brains are already in sync in the waking world, so who knows what’ll happen when the insanity of their subconscious minds mix together. He’s interested to find out, too.

Soulmates. Brad turns the word over. It’s kind of misleading, because it’s not when a person has an identical soul to you - it’s when you find the person (or people) who has the part of your soul that’s missing. Because Patrice is in a tasteful polo shirt and nicely fitted jeans, while Brad is wearing mismatched socks and a beat-up flannel. Where Patrice stops and thinks, Brad takes action. Patrice is known and loved for his absurd amount of talent where Brad is hated across the league for his dirty tactics. Nobody anywhere would classify them as similar, but they fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I always make it in these that Patrice has figured it out and said nothing while Brad is just oblivious until a big "aha!" moment??? My personal set of writing tropes is stupid. -_-


End file.
